


Last Rites

by costumejail



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Episode: s15e18 Despair - Castiel's Confession Scene, First Kiss, M/M, One Shot, Self-Sacrifice, i havent watched this show in 6 years, i mean like. yall know what it is everyone and their dog has done this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/costumejail/pseuds/costumejail
Summary: Cas’ eyes flicker over Dean’s shoulder, but he doesn’t even look to confirm what he already knows. The Empty is there, beckoning Cas to step into it. To leave Dean behind. His eyes don’t leave Cas’ face for if this is his last chance to look at him he wants to make every second count.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 30





	Last Rites

“You changed me, Dean.”

Dean’s numb from the ears down. It feels like his body’s shut down and he’s locked at the back of his mind, screaming and thrashing against the restraints keeping him frozen in place. With biblical effort, he licks his lips and speaks, each word tumbling from his mouth as if they aren’t his own. 

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

“Because it is,” Cas admits. 

He doesn’t even have the grace to look remorseful. 

Dean looks at him, dark hair and piercing eyes. They’re blurred now, hidden behind tears that haven’t yet started to fall. Dean looks at him and sees those same eyes twelve years ago, in a barn in wherever-the-fuck, USA. He sees those same eyes in motel rooms and diners and looking at him from the passenger seat of the impala. Out of a face that smiles, laughs, bites its lip as its owner tends wounds and sets joints and pulls Dean together again and again. 

So how can he rip Dean apart so easily now?

“I love you, Dean,” Cas smiles. 

That same smile that took years for Dean to see, Cas to learn, but feels like a breath of fresh air, even now, standing in this dirty basement with Billie pounding at the door. 

It’s the same smile that Dean would do anything to see every day of his god damn life but Cas is talking like this will be the last time and that knowledge burns through Dean, more painful than hellfire. 

He stumbles a step forward, doesn’t even feel himself do it. 

“Don’t do this, Cas.” 

The words hurt. Worse than pulling teeth or tearing flesh or picking bullets out of muscle by streetlight in a parking lot. Because those things will heal but losing Cas is losing a part of Dean’s own soul and he can’t recover from that. It’s a desperate plea, a prayer. And Dean might be on bad terms with God but his salvation is standing in front of him and he wants to get on his knees and weep, scream, trade his own life for Cas’ because how can he live knowing that the angel — the man — he would do anything for died for him?

Cas’ eyes flicker over Dean’s shoulder, but he doesn’t even look to confirm what he already knows. The Empty is there, beckoning Cas to step into it. To leave Dean behind. His eyes don’t leave Cas’ face for if this is his last chance to look at him he wants to make every second count. 

Cas takes a step forward, as steady and smooth as he’s ever been. Dean’s heart leaps into his throat and he moves to intercept him.

“Cas—”

It’s a miracle that Cas cuts him off because Dean’s not sure what he was about to admit. But they aren’t the words he needs to hear that slip from Cas’ lips. 

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Another step brings them almost chest-to-chest. Dean’s skin prickles with heat, anger, desperate, hopeless want. His heartbeat pounds in his head, his chest, his shoulder, where Cas’ mark is burned not just into his skin, but into every fibre of his being. Now, Cas’ cool hand slips up Dean’s arm. His fingers line up perfectly with the raised scar and Dean almost moans. 

It’s a balm on his every throbbing wound, it’s being reborn. It might feel good when Dean traces the lines of Cas’ hand etched onto his shoulder, curled on a shitty motel mattress and wondering if it’s all been worth it. But Cas touches it, skin against overheated, overworked, overtired skin and it’s holy communion. It feels as fresh as the first time Cas touched him. 

Then it had been just days since Dean had returned and every nerve felt raw as this stranger told him that he was the reason he’d came to in a pine box and he put his hand on a mark that still ached with every movement and Dean had understood why “he completes me” was a phrase. 

Now Dean presses into the touch, knowing that it’s his last chance to feel whole again. 

His eyes flutter shut, everything else fades away and it’s just the two of them, Cas’ hand on Dean’s arm and Dean’s heart pounding in his chest. He puts one hand over Cas’ and reaches out with the other one. He cups the back of Cas’ head, pulling him in and Cas goes easily, as if it’s his divine right to put his lips to Dean’s and give away the last breath of a dying man. 

It’s short and perfect and would be sweet if Dean’s stomach didn’t turn at the knowledge that this is it. Cas pulls back and presses his forehead to Dean’s. He’d almost complain except for the shaky exhale that Cas lets out, fanning over Dean’s face and reminding him that Cas is the one that’s dying, here. 

Even if it feels like Dean is too. 

The door behind Cas slams open, Billie stepping into the room. Dean jumps but Cas is steady as ever as he pushes Dean to the side. 

The pain that Dean feels when he skids across the floor and crashes against the wall is nothing compared to the millennia-deep ache in his chest when he pushes himself up and watches Cas look back at him one last time. 

A smile lights up Cas’ features, there’s no breath in Dean’s lungs but he knows that it would be gone anyway at the sight. It’s a smile Dean knows well, he’s felt it crawl across his features too many times, the smile of a job well-done, a life saved at the cost of your own. Some part of Dean wonders if everyone else feels the same knife-twist in their chest when they see the same expression on his own face. It’s overtaken by the rest of him screaming at himself to get up, do something, anything, stop Cas from giving himself to the Empty. 

It’s no use. He’s known since Cas opened his mouth that only one of them would leave this room. 

That doesn’t stop the jagged breath in his throat, the violent pounding of his heart, the burning tears building in his eyes as it reaches out and surrounds Cas. 

That damned smile, blessed smile, unforgettable smile doesn’t shift while the Empty wraps around Cas and slides over his face. 

In an instant, they’re gone. 

Cas is gone.

Dean looks around the room but Billie is gone, too and that means it worked. They’re saved. 

So why does it feel like the world is ending?

Shock freezes Dean as he pants against the dirty brick wall and he knows he should get up, go find Sammy, tell him that it’s over and they’re safe and they can live normal lives for the first time. But he can’t make himself do it. 

Gradually he shifts to press his back against the wall, burying his head between his knees and focusing on breathing in, out, in, out. 

Cas would want him to move on, Cas would want him to take this gift of life, not the first time he’s given it to him, and seize it with both hands. 

Dean wraps one hand around his shoulder and tries to imagine it’s Cas’. 

Eventually, his phone buzzes. Dean pulls it out and it’s Sam. The screen blurs and Dean tosses it to the side, barely hearing his phone clatter against the floor over his broken sobs as the reality of a new world settles in.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I literally don't go here but I woke up possessed by the ghost of the thirteen-year-old me that was obsessed with spn and destiel and particularly the handprint so. Thanks for reading, hope y'all liked it! Feel free to leave a comment/kudos or like, check out my [tumblr](sleevesareforlosers.tumblr.com), if you want.


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